


The Victims Family

by juliiawrites



Series: The Victims Family [1]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26164012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juliiawrites/pseuds/juliiawrites
Summary: “Hotch,” Rossi said, knocking patiently on the door as he walked in. “Why don’t we go talk in my office.”Cruz nodded. “That sounds like a good idea, Hotch. Rossi will catch you up on what they have, and you can offer whatever advice you can think of, and then you can spend time with that little boy of yours. And you’re gonna tell him it will all be okay. Because it will be.”As Rossi followed Hotch out, Cruz called on him for a second.“Rossi, uh, a moment, please?”“Yeah, uh,” he said, “Aaron, I’ll be right out.”“Listen,” Cruz lowered his voice, “for all intents and purposes, Aaron Hotchner is a flight risk. I’m letting him stay here so we know where he is at all times. I won’t be able to cover for him if he goes out and gets another person killed, even if that person is Scratch. You understand?”Rossi nodded. “Yes, sir. Understood.”“Good,” Cruz said, sitting back in his seat. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”------You are Aaron Hotchner's girlfriend, off to deliver him his lunch and visit him at work. Things don't go as you had planned, and you leave a bit upset- Hotch brushes this off as he dives back into Scratch's investigation.
Relationships: Aaron Hotchner/Reader, The BAU Team & Everyone
Series: The Victims Family [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1900003
Comments: 11
Kudos: 48
Collections: Stories set in the Criminal Minds universe





	1. o n e

Brisk D.C. breeze, that cheap coffee-cart smell under your nose, the clicking of heels on the pavement- that was it. The moment you looked forward to every week, hoping that Aaron would be around to spend it with you. Breakfast- well, more like a brunch- that you made up at home and brought to his work, right after grabbing two coffees. You didn’t drink coffee much, so the second cup was for Garcia. Regardless of if Aaron was working a case or not, Garcia was always there to graciously accept the coffee.

You were wearing your cozy autumn cardigan, the one with the fur along the hood that got tight around the wrists and extended to the middle of your palm. Your hair, long and blowing in that breeze, was near black at the roots but faded into a warm honey blonde. You shivered a little in your thin black leggings, though your calves were warmed by the thick winter socks you had pulled up under your boots.

The building was bland and had sharp corners, much like Aaron, you thought, if you hadn’t known any better. The security guards there knew you well, and greeted you with a smile as you approached the doors.

“Here to see Aaron?” The fellow, James, asked, typing something into a computer and taking your drivers license.

“Am I that predictable?” You said with a short laugh, eagerly awaiting your visitor pass that you would pin to your very out of place cardigan. You never had any business dressing like an FBI agent- you were a writer, having run a few blogs and merrily pursuing your first novel. Anything comfortable would suffice, specifically for sitting and with a laptop trying to spit words out, hoping the story you were trying to tell would resonate with somebody else wearing something comfortable and just sitting around.

“Only to me, Mrs. Hotchner. Have a good day.”

You hesitated, smiling politely as you took your visitors pass. You weren’t “mrs. Hotchner”, at least, not yet- you hoped to stay with Aaron for the rest of your life, but you knew how unpredictable existing could be. Regardless, the guard didn’t seem to make anything of your awkward pause and turned his attention to the next visitor, a stiff young man with broad shoulders and dark buzzed hair.

-

“Hey! Y/n! It’s nice to see you.” Spencer stood to greet you with that warm Spencer-smile, his small frame so easy to hug. He was getting stronger, you noticed, but noticed quickly after that Garcia was tip-tapping over your way clad in her bright pink pencil skirt and floral top.

“You too, doc. Garcia!” You said, holding out her coffee, “as always, just the way you like it. Very caffeinated and very sweet, just like you.”

“Oh, you are just the most amazing person to ever grace my sight-“

“Hey now,” Morgan chimed in, leaning on Reid’s desk, “what am I?

“Oh hush,chocolate thunder, you already know what you are to me-“

“Is Aaron in?” You asked, hitching your bag up on your shoulder.

“Uh, yeah, he’s been shut in his office all morning but-“

“Okay, great, thanks,” you said quickly, glancing to the window looking in towards his desk. His brow, permanently furrowed, seemed tense and unforgiving. He had one hand against his temple, his eyes squinting down at what you could only assume were horrendous crime scene photos. You were, admittedly, curious about the gruesome aspects of the crimes- as a writer, you had curiosities about every part of life, especially death. You and Rossi has discussed it once at a dinner at his house- or mansion, as he preferred to call it.

You knocked on the door.

“Aaron? It’s me- I’m- I’m here-“ you pushed open the door carefully and let your eyes adjust to the darker light. He glanced up from his file, his expression still and unchanging.

“Hi. Sorry, I have a lot of work to do.”

“I’m sure you could use a break. Ten minutes? I made sandwiches-“

“I really don’t have time. This is important- it’s a complicated case, and the paperwork-“

“Did you forget I was coming?”

“Of course not. This is just very important, so can we just- can we plan another time?”

Taken aback, you swallowed over a sudden lump in your throat and shrugged. “I mean. I guess.”

“You don’t have much else to do, right? Maybe Friday we can do this.”

“Um- I’m sorry?”

“What?” He asked, still not looking up.

“I have work to do, too.”

“Oh. Yes. Your book- um, I’m sorry, I’ll see you tonight. Probably late. I’ll wake you if you’re asleep.”

“Aaron.” You said, lips shaking slightly. He didn’t respond. “Aaron.”

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I know I set this time aside for us, but we have a new lead involving the prison break case, and you know how important-“

“-Catching those serial killers is for the safety of the public and your team. Yeah, I know. Just. Fine- here, have your lunch. I’ll see you later.”

“Y/n- you know I’d love to see you-“

“No, no, I get it. That’s how it was with your wife, right? Some things were more important, until they weren’t.”

He looked up at you, his eyes low and studying. A pang of guilt shot through you, realizing what you had implied, but you were upset and decided to let it be for now.

“I’m trying to avoid that situation happening again to someone.” Cold. Deflated. His work-voice.

“I’ll get jack from school. Don’t worry about waking me up when you get home.”

He watched you walk out, tears bubbling in your eyes. The team watched you go, but you kept your head and eyes down and sauntered onwards. You tried to be understanding about his job- it was crucial, important- but you knew that you should be as well. He even told you that, when you started seeing each other- every life and relationship he saved would mean nothing if he couldn’t come home and have his own life and love. Lately, with all the stress, he seemed to forget about that, and more often than not he cast you aside, either by sleeping in his office or coming home so late it was practically morning. He’d miss your calls, forget to call back- the jealous girlfriend deep within you thought maybe he was losing interest, maybe he was seeing someone else- but the rational adult in you knew it was just the pressure of the job. He had a lot of people to please, a lot of people to lead, and a lot of likes on the line the longer it took him to hunt down each killer that escaped.

Once you stepped in the elevator, you took a moment to breathe. When the door stopped on another floor, you glanced into your bag and saw the little present wrapped up inside of it. It was a little box, and in it was a onesie that said FBI with the positive pregnancy test you had taken a week ago.

The same boy from earlier stepped into the elevator, smiling politely as you closed your bag and looked up to try and keep the tears in your eyes.

“Tough day?” He asked, looking up at the floor number count down to the parking garage.

“Uh, yeah,” you said, a little startled, “it’s nothing really. Just emotional lately.”

He nodded, “I get it. This building is also bursting with pressure. You can feel it in the air. You’d think the stress alone could wipe everyone out.”

You pressed your lips into an awkward smile, and noticed the press pass tagging to his bag.

“Where do you work?” You asked.

The elevator dinged and he held his hand in front of the sensor to let you off first.

“Just a small blog online. I’m trying to be a writer, and I wanted to do a story on the BAU. Serial killers, you know. That’s what everyone wants to hear about.”

“That’s awesome! I had something of a blog myself not too long ago. Trying to switch over to the novel side of things.”

“Very cool. Well, it was nice to see you. Have a great day, Mrs. Hotchner.”

You were already walking back to your car when you realized what he had said. Maybe he heard the security guard say it earlier- you hadn’t mentioned your name at all, right? You didn’t even have the last name Hotchner. You weren’t married.

“Oh, sorry, uh, I think you dropped this-“ he sounded much closer than he had before.

You turned and fast, reaching into your bag for the pepper spray you kept handy since college. All too fast, though, there was a belt around your neck and the boy grabbed your legs tight. You tried to kick and scream, but no air left your throat. Your eyes watered and felt like they would bulge out of your head, and a dry bit of fabric was tied into your open mouth and the boy roped u; your ankles. There was a sharp hit to your head, and you could feel them tying you up more- your wrists, your knees- the gag on your mouth pulled out some of your hair. Your vision blurred, and shortly before it faded into a cloudy haze of black and white shadows, you heard yourself mutter _Aaron_.


	2. t w o

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team discovers what's happened, and Hotch faces a demon from his past.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no-“ Garcia said, hurrying in her heels to the conference room where the team was having a having a brief meeting. Crime scene photos flashed on the screen, but the tears her eyes seemed to blur any distaste she had for them. When she pushed the door open, everyone turned to her, Hotch standing with his brows furrowed and eyes boring holes into her.

“Garcia- what is it?” JJ asked, concerned.

She opened her mouth, a little sob escaping. “I don’t- I don’t- it... it’s... something happened to Y/N-“

Hotch’s head cocked and he listened intently.

“There were two men in the parking garage. The report came in just a few minutes ago, and so I hacked into the footage and- and there she was- they got her-“

“Garcia, I need to see the video. Now.” Hotch said, his jaw tight.

Garcia picked up her remote and changed the monitor to display the replay of the footage. On the screen, you were walking with the boy, and then away from him- but he followed closely behind you until you turned and another man popped out from behind your car and grabbed you.

Garcia cried, and Hotch stormed out, suit coat flaring out behind him, as he hurried to the elevators, your words replaying in his mind: _some things were more important, until they weren’t_. His lunch sat untouched in his office where you had left it. The team followed quickly behind him.

He got in the elevator and pressed the button to go down once- then twice- then three, four, five times until Rossi put a hand on his shoulder and the door finally slid closed.

“This might not be what you think it is, Aaron.”

Hotch looked down, shaking his head. “What are the odds it isn’t?”

Rossi let his head roll slightly back and he let out a deep breath, remaining silent.

“This cannot be happening again.”

Rossi sighed. “I know, Aaron. I know.”

\---

When they arrived in the parking garage CSI was all over it. Markers were set up, crime scene tape lining the area between four big stone pillars. The video of the kidnapping replayed in Hotch’s mind- behind you, then you turn, then behind you again- grabbed your legs, threw you in the van- sped off.

He walked quickly towards the scene until Morgan and Rossi grabbed his arms.

“Hotch-“ Morgan tried.

“Let go of me,” he said, fighting against them.

“You can’t be here, you’re too close to this-“ Morgan tried.

Hotch let him pull off his suit jacket and pushed through and under the crime scene tape. He saw the bag on the ground, a few miscellaneous things strewn about; some old lip balm, a few gum wrappers, a pen from your bank, your cellphone- and a box, wrapped in pale wrapping paper and tied up nice with a little bow. There was a marker next to it that had the number 7, and a man in a CSI jacket snapped a picture of it with the flash turned up high.

“Do we know who that man was?” Hotch asked Cruz as he approached, staring down at the remnants of you.

“Security said he signed in as Torey E. O’Fegg, right after Y/n did.”

Hotch stared down at your bag, replaying your last conversation in his head.

“Does it sound familiar?”

“No- no, I don’t know anybody by that name. I don’t think Y/n does either- who did the van belong to?”

“Apparently scheduled maintenance. We found what I suspect is the actual driver shot execution style in an alley a few blocks down.”

“Hotch, man, come on. We’re not doing any good here.”

He looked at the present, shaking his head. “No, I don’t- the gift, I haven’t seen it-“

“Was it for you, maybe? Anniversary, holiday, something?” Rossi asked, looking down at the scene.

“No- no, it wasn’t- today was supposed to be the day we had lunch together. I- I brushed her off. I said I was too busy with work, and-“

“Aaron, Aaron, it’s okay,” Rossi said, “let’s go back up to the BAU, where we can all be of help. We’re not doing anything but suffering down here. Let’s go.”

“If I had lunch with her she wouldn’t have been down here-“

“You know as well as I do that in order to pull this off, they planned it. Look at how organized, down to the smallest detail.”

“So you think they’ll keep her alive?”

Rossi sighed. “Why go through all the trouble if they were just going to kill her? Coming into an FBI building is as low risk a victim they could possibly get.”

Hotch nodded, though he wasn’t sure if this was the answer he wanted to hear or not. He didn’t want to think about you suffering, and as Rossi and Morgan led him away, all he could see in his head was the present laying on the ground by your bag, freshly wrapped with a ditsy little bow tied around it.

-

“We need to look at victimology here,” Rossi said across the table. “And considering the circumstances, Aaron, I think you’re apart of that.”

Hotch had his head in his hands and didn’t respond.

“Do we think this could be Scratch?” Emily asked, glancing around the table. “I mean, the timing…”

“He definitely has it out for Hotch,” Morgan said, “but as of right now that guy she met in the elevator doesn’t seem to have any connection. Garcia, what do you got on him?”

Garcia typed away, tears still beading in her eyes. “Um, yeah, okay, I haven’t gotten any match on his face yet, and I ran the name through every system you could think of and got zilch. Probably a fake.”

“A fake that’s good enough to fool security down there, though,” Rossi said, “that tells us a lot. They’ve got know how and resources.”

“I hate to say it,” JJ said, “but it’s either that or someone on the inside was in on it and helped him get in.”

“Garcia, look into the security guard that was there this morning. We should talk to him,” Rossi said.

“Done and done.”

“Wait, can I- I need a pen-“ Reid said, fumbling with some paper until he found a blank space on one.

He wrote out the name Torey E. O’Fegg.

“The name is confusing, because Torey is a gender neutral norse name meaning Thor, the god of thunder-“

“Didn’t that woman say there was a storm coming?” Tara asked, her attention snapping to Reid.

“Yeah, but, not only that… I think it’s an anagram for something…”

Hotch looked up, his dark eyes lined with red. Spencer scribbled on the paper, crossing off letters and writing others down.

Spencer put down his pen and looked up at everyone.

“What is it, Spence?” JJ asked, stiffening up at the air in the room as it was too heavy to breathe.

“It’s an anagram for George Foyet.”


	3. t h r e e

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The investigation continues and the team makes a disturbing discovery.

“Foyet is dead, we know this-“ Rossi tried.

“He’s dead because I killed him,” Aaron said, “and I killed him because he killed Haley.”

“Okay, there’s a unit enroute to Jack’s school, they’re gonna bring him here and have a security detail with him-“

“Aaron, you should be with him-“ Rossi tried.

“No, the best thing I can do is help you work this case. I won’t get it wrong this time.”

“Hotch, we can handle this-“ Emily tried.

“Foyet is dead so what does using his name accomplish?”

“Well obviously the unsub is saying that he knows you. He knows your life, and he knows the worst thing that happened to you, and he wants to show that he has the power to waltz in here and recreate that.” JJ said.

“This has to have something to do with Scratch. He’s been tormenting all of us, so this can’t be a coincidence, right?” Garcia asked.

“Scratch _would_ know all of these things about you, Hotch.” Emily added.

“What if it has nothing to do with Scratch, and everything to do with someone close to Foyet?” Tara asked.

“The guy didn’t have anybody- and I mean, nobody,” Garcia said, “I mean, he was barely in prison long enough to eat a meal, so he didn’t get to know anybody there. And he was pretty much a loner, especially after he faked his own attack, he isolated himself completely.”

“If there was anybody related to Foyet’s case that had it out for me or any of us, why would they wait until now?” Hotch asked.

“It’s the perfect time to pin it on Scratch. It could be that.” Reid said.

“No, no,” Rossi said, “this is too planned and too risky to decide to do it now. Sure, they could’ve been planning it for years, but who would wait that long?”

“Wait, wait, I think I got something-“ Garcia said, “and- oh…”

“What is it?” Hotch asked.

“I got a match on the facial recognition. That man who called himself Torey, he’s- he’s a missing person. Not only that but- but- he was reported missing by his psychiatrist-“

“Let me guess,” Rossi began.

“He was being treated for DID,” Reid finished.

“Bingo, yeah, yep, and he had it bad, it seems- abused and moved from foster house to foster house, aged out of the system and hasn’t held a steady job since… Got cleaned up after he met a girlfriend it looks like, who had him committed after he suffered from a break and referred to himself as Daisy, but stayed with him after that.”

“Garcia, what’s his real name?” Hotch asked.

“Um… Charlie Wilson. It’s Charlie Wilson. He’s been missing basically since the prison break, doctors and that girlfriend assumed he had another break and ran off, got lost, or something of the sort.”

“Scratch knew we would figure that out fast,” Morgan said, “something about this doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Scratch wants me to know that he’s got me. He’s got me worse than Foyet did. He’s got me here, at my work, in my life, and he has the power to destroy it all.”

“But we’re not gonna let that happen,” JJ said.

“He only wants to cause as much pain and suffering to you as he possibly can,” Rossi said.

“So he’s probably going to drug her and try and brainwash her.”

“It won’t work,” Emily said, “right?”

“Reid, JJ, Morgan, why don’t you guys go check out the evidence found at the scene. Emily, Garcia, Tara, and me will stay here with Hotch so we can talk through some things.”

“Alright,” Morgan said, standing.

Reid and JJ followed him out the door and into the bullpen, leaving the rest of them at the round table.

“Garcia, can we hear what they said from these cameras?” Tara asked.

“No, um, they don’t pick up on sound. But the picture is good, you can look at body language-“

Hotch slammed his fist into the table and stood, running his hands through his hair.

“I had him, Dave,” he said, rubbing his face, “I had him that night in that house and he got away.”

“You can’t blame yourself for this,” Rossi said, “Scratch is the worst of the worst. But we’re gonna find him, and he’s gonna rot in a cell alone for the rest of his life.”

“I don’t know if that’s good enough,” Hotch said, grinding his teeth and clenching his fist. The rest of the team in the room looked up at him, worry and fear crossing over their faces.

“We’re gonna get him, Aaron.” Dave said.

“I can’t- I can’t lose- the last conversation we had was a fight about how much time I was spending at work. I was afraid to tell her about Scratch and- I was hoping we would catch him before anything could get taken this far, but… I sent her away, Dave. I sent her away. Just like with Haley, this job, it caused a rift between us, and I chose the files over her just like I did with Haley before I lost her.”

Everyone looked up at him, and a tear fell from Garcia’s eye.

“You couldn’t have known,” Dave said. “You were doing what you thought was best for everyones safety with what you knew at the time.”

“Scratch is all about tormenting his victims and playing on their fears. He knows Hotch is afraid of reliving this. He’s gotta be obsessed with recreating it. Everything about this has to show off the power he has in Hotch’s life, and fear he can introduce into it.”

“So what about the house you had with Haley? Or anything along those lines?” Rossi asked.

“That’s too obvious,” Hotch said, pacing back and forth near the windows, “he wouldn’t make it that easy.”

“Yeah, not to mention the house has changed hands a few times and is currently owned by a retired couple with no connections whatsoever to-“ Garcia tried.

“This is ridiculous. I-“ Hotch began, but stopped as he spotted Jack being escorted in by a team of big men in black suits. He hurried towards him and fell to his knees in front of him, his arms twitching and waiting for Jack to fall into them. And he did, like always- like every time Aaron had to tell him they’d lost somebody they loved.

-

“Here’s what was at the scene. Mostly just regular everyday things you’d find in a bag. Nothing really out of the ordinary on her part. There was a faint hint of some shoe tread we’re having sent to the lab, but it could be from earlier that day since it’s a pretty populated area.”

“What’s the gift for?” Reid asked.

JJ shrugged, “birthday, maybe? Somebody Hotch didn’t know.”

“So whoever she was giving this to could possible have something to do with it,” Morgan tried.

“I don’t know. I think- can I see that, please?” Spencer said, hands squeezed into latex gloves as he leaned in to examine the package.

“Clearly we saw from the video that she barely had time to react,” JJ said.

“Yeah, but, this bag was over her shoulder, if you watch carefully, it almost seems like she let it go on purpose. I mean, it had her phone, ID’s, everything.”

“She’s dating a profiler, so I’m sure she knows a few things about situations like these,” JJ said, though she was interrupted by Spencer cutting open the wrapping paper.

“Whoever this gift was for might have information. There’s no name on the outside, but if-“

“She was probably going to hand deliver it to whoever it was for,” JJ said. “She didn’t even make it to her car, so-“

“Um… guys?” Reid said, slowly lifting the FBI onesie up from the box.

“Oh- oh my god,” JJ said, a thick red line forming around her eyes.

“And-“ Spencer said, inspecting the pregnancy test on the bottom of the box, “this gift was for Hotch. She-“

“She’s pregnant,” Morgan said with a sigh. “What do we tell Hotch?”


	4. f o u r

The three walked into the conference room with the box neatly closed.

Garcia glanced up from her laptop. “Oh, no more doom and gloom today, please. Tell me you found something helpful.”

“I don’t know if it’s helpful, but, Hotch, I think you should take a look at it,” Morgan said, and Reid carefully handed it to him.

“The gift?” Hotch asked. “Do you think it was planted, or-“

“Hotch,” JJ said, a little too quickly, “I- sorry. I think it was a gift for you.”

Hotch looked around the table and after a moment of internal deliberation, he lifted the top off of the box and revealed the neatly refolded FBI onesie. Brows ever furrowed, he lifted the onesie up by the shoulders. Garcia put a hand to her mouth as more tears welled in her eyes.

Hotch looked down at the positive pregnancy test.

“Did you know-“

“No, I didn’t know-“

“Did you have any reason to suspect-“

“I said I didn’t know-“ Hotch said, staring down at the positive test still, “I’ve been busy with work and the prison escape and- and- and I didn’t notice anything.”

“The lab is testing for any DNA remaining on it to make sure its hers, but, I mean…” Reid tried, stammering awkwardly.

“Y/n is pregnant. She’s pregnant, and those people that took her are probably going to kill her.” Hotch stood from his seat and stormed out towards his office, slamming the door behind him.

“Hotch-“ JJ tried.

“JJ-“ Rossi said, “just… just give him some time.”

Before Hotch could close the blinds, they saw him slam his palms against his eyes, shoulders bobbing as though he were sobbing.

-

You woke up in a dark place, on a dingy, old, stained mattress with rope tied around your wrists. Your lips felt dry and the air felt stale in your throat. Everything ached- your head, your body, your heart- and you wondered how Aaron must have been feeling, and if he had even realized you were gone yet. If it weren’t for the fact that you didn’t know how long it had been since they grabbed you in that parking garage, you would’ve assumed he was already on his way to get you. He’d be there any minute, busting down the door and yelling “FBI! Hands up!” the way you imagined he always did.

“Ah. You’re awake.”

The voice was familiar but the world around you was a blur. The side of your head pounded with every heart beat, and you could feel the tug of dried blood on your skin as you tried to move.

“Don’t move, it’s probably best that you get your rest.”

“Who are you?” You asked, squinting as the world fell in and out of focus. Did you have a concussion? What happened in the van? You could hardly remember anything from before you woke up.

“My name is Torey. At least, that's what they know.”

“Why are you doing this?” You groaned, dizziness sending you face first into the mattress, which smelled of dust and mold.

“What better way to get to Agent Hotchner than to take his lovely lady right out from under him?” He said, moving his face closer to yours, his breath against your skin.

“Stop-“ you said, “you won’t-“

“-Won’t get away with this,” he said, mockingly, “except for the fact that I will. Me, my friend over there, everybody ever involved in any of this- we will get away with it. Because after what I do to you, Aaron Hotchner will never step foot in the FBI again.”

“You’re wrong-“ you struggled, squeezing your eyes shut to try and steady yourself. The world still found a way to run circles around you even in the darkness.

“You don’t really have a say,” he said, one hand brushing against your arm, “once the drugs take over, you’ll do whatever I want you to do.”

“Who are you?” You asked, groggy, trying hard to keep yourself awake and alert.

“I already told you,” he said, “I’m Torey.”

“No,” you said, “who are you to Aaron?”

He pressed his palm against your cheek and brushed some loose hairs behind your ear. “Just a wronged party. My relationship to him isn’t really the important one, though. It’s his relationship to you that matters.”

You tried to open your eyes, and could just barely make out another man standing behind Torey, fuzzy in the spinning, blurry mess of the world that you saw.

“So tell me, Y/n. Does SSA Hotchner liked to be called Agent in bed?”

You tried to pull yourself up again, your limbs shaking from the pain surging to your head. You felt a wet tickle down the side of your cheek and could taste the blood when it got to your lips.

"What about... Special Agent? _Supervisory_ Special Agent? Does he tie you up like all those helpless victims he sees everyday?"

You groaned, your head ringing and stomach turning.

“Relax, relax,” he said, leaning close to your ear. “I wonder if he’ll try and kill me. One heartless punch at a time. But he’s not what he used to be. No, I could take him.”

“You wouldn’t stand a chance,” you said, flinching away from him and his breath, hot and warm on your neck.

“Let’s say you’re right. You aren’t, but let’s say you are. Even if he could take me… you can’t.”

He was so close that his lips were just barely touching your skin. You winced away from his touch, thinking back to the way Aaron had dismissed you before you ended up here. He was a busy man, and he would never let whoever those people were get away with hurting you.

And then you though back to the baby. You weren’t used to thinking about a baby, and the thought of protecting the life growing inside of you was overwhelming. You hoped that they had found your purse, and the gift for Aaron that was inside. He at least deserved to know, and you hoped against hope it would bring him some amount of joy.

“Not even gonna put up a fight?” He asked, pressing the weight of his body against you. The feeling made you want to throw up, especially on top of the pounding, spinning headache you had.

“Not yet,” a voice from behind said. “You need to learn how to be patient.”

You felt his weight lift off of you, and despite your best efforts, your eyes grew heavy and closed, the darkness enclosing around you like a warm blanket. The world outside of this blanket did not exist. It was only you, the warmth it held around you, and the darkness that grasped your shoulder.

-

“He’s been in there for an hour-“ JJ tried, shaking her head as Garcia cried next to her.

“I’ve looked through all of the cameras in this city and its like they just- they just disappear,” Garcia tried.

Rossi let out a sigh and stood from his desk, glancing over at Jack sitting with a soda bottle watching TV on one of the couches.

“Garcia, we gotta know how to get to this guy when we find him. We need to know how to bring him back to who he really is. Tell me about Charlie. Y/N is Hotch’s partner, so maybe we can play on that… tell me about the girlfriend.”

Garcia started typing away on her laptop. “There’s nothing much here. Lovely girl, from the surface- average report cards, no disciplinary history, worked at a chain bookstore for a bit of time until she met Charlie. Posted lots of happy rantings online about their relationship, it looks like they went hiking a lot, and- oh-“

“What is it?” Rossi asked, hands tucked in his pockets.

“Before he went missing, she had a few doctors appointments- pretty regularly, and- I think- I think she was pregnant.”

“There’s no way Scratch could know that Y/N was pregnant when he chose this guy,” Morgan said.

“Well based on the time line, she might not have even _been_ pregnant yet.”

“So there it is. That’s how we reach Charlie. Garcia, call the girlfriend, ask her if she wouldn’t mind coming in to talk to us about Charlie.”

“On it, sir.”

Hotch pulled open his office door and walked out, eyes trained on the ground in front of him, as he hurried towards the exit of the bullpen.

“We should go-“ JJ tried.

“I’ll go,” Rossi said, straightening his jacket, “you keep digging.” He walked off slowly after Hotch, head up, posture straight.

He had gone to Cruz’s office. Stormed in, didn’t knock, walked right in on a phone call.

“Agent Hotchner,” he said, putting the phone down and standing, “I-“

“I need to be included in this investigation,” Hotch said.

Cruz watched him for a moment before he spoke. “I’d already been thinking about it. And, yes-“ he said, to Hotch’s surprise, “you can assist. But from here, no field work- you know Scratch better then anyone and if this is him you can offer a lot to the investigation. But you’re not here as an Agent. You are the victims family, so-“

“Fine. I just need to help. I can’t sit here and-“

“Hotch,” Rossi said, knocking patiently on the door as he walked in. “Why don’t we go talk in my office.”

Cruz nodded. “That sounds like a good idea, Hotch. Rossi will catch you up on what they have, and you can offer whatever advice you can think of, and then you can spend time with that little boy of yours. And you’re gonna tell him it will all be okay. Because it will be.”

As Rossi followed Hotch out, Cruz called on him for a second.

“Rossi, uh, a moment, please?”

“Yeah, uh,” he said, “Aaron, I’ll be right out.”

“Listen,” Cruz lowered his voice, “for all intents and purposes, Aaron Hotchner is a flight risk. I’m letting him stay here so we know where he is at all times. I won’t be able to cover for him if he goes out and gets another person killed, even if that person is Scratch. You understand?”

Rossi nodded. “Yes, sir. Understood.”

“Good,” Cruz said, sitting back in his seat. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”


	5. f i v e

“I found Charlie’s girlfriend and mother-to-be, her name is Kayla Stinger and she is a DC native, born and raised. Currently living with mom and dad and on about month eight of her pregnancy with what I can only assume to be Charlie’s baby. She’s on her way in now.”

“You’re amazing, babygirl.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

Hotch walked into the briefing room and everyone looked up, the tension palpable. He didn’t make eye contact with anyone, and Rossi followed solemnly behind. When faced with he questions glances, he just nodded, taking his seat at the round table.

“What do we got?” Hotch asked.

“It looks like Scratch, or someone who desperately wants us to believe it's him,” Morgan started. “The Torey guy who took her, he’s actually a missing person with DID that’s been gone for a few months. His girlfriend is coming in to talk with us.”

“That’s Scratch’s MO,” Hotch said, voice low and distant.

“We’re going to try and track him down and use the girlfriend to our advantage, to try and break through whatever Scratch put in his head,” Emily said.

“How?” Hotch asked.

“His girlfriend is pregnant. If we draw the parallel between her and Y/N, he might start to break,” Spencer said, his voice dwindling towards the end as Hotch’s eyes closed.

“Security footage caught the van heading north about twenty minutes after the abduction. They seem to know the area really well because that’s the only camera that’s had them since they were here.”

“If Scratch has had him for months we might not be able to get through to him,” Hotch said.

“It’s difficult to say, the knowledge of a child coming into your life that is your own flesh and blood would probably begin him questioning all that’s happened,” Reid said.

“But what if we trigger a break? What if he can’t get back to Charlie?” Garcia asked.

“He probably won’t be able to,” Emily said. “I mean, he’s been with Scratch for months.”

“How did Scratch find him?” Hotch asked.

“I’m still digging, sir.”

“Dig faster,” Hotch said, turning to the screen where a picture of Charlie with shaggy dark hair and a goofy smile was plastered. He tried to imagine Y/N with him, or at least the version of him they saw on the footage, to prepare himself for the worst. There were no bounds to his cruelty, Hotch knew that Scratch would make sure of that. He saw her in his mindseye, bleeding, crying, calling out for his help.

—-

You were laying in a tight ball on the dirty mattress, tears pooling under your cheek. You could hear occasional footsteps echoing around you, above you- you were sure you were being kept in some kind of cellar. It was small, and there was a slanted ladder that could almost be a small staircase leading down to you. Nobody had been down to see you in a little while, though you had no concept of time. There were no windows, no grates, no vents- nothing to give you any clue as to where you were or what was going on. You couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened if you had stayed- with Aaron, as he worked in his office, or with the team outside as they waited for a case. Somewhere in your mind you knew that if you had waited, nothing would have changed. Maybe you’d be getting kidnapped right now, instead of then.

The old door creaked open and a man began carefully down the ladder. Afraid, you held your knees to your chest like a child, hoping that in the dark nobody would remember you were there.

“Hello?” He asked- a voice you hadn’t heard before. It was softer, much more timid, careful. “I won’t hurt you. I’m here to help.”

In the dark you saw his shadow kneel next to you, and a first aid kit in his hand.

“Really, I’m only here to fix you up.”

“Can you get me out of here?” You whispered, slowly sitting up.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered back, “I can’t do that.”

“Please,” I said, “I have a family.”

“I have one too,” he said, opening his box and taking out a flashlight, “that’s why I can’t. If I don’t do what they say, they’ll kill me.”

The light turned on and burned your eyes.

“Are they going to kill me?” you asked, blinking.

“I don’t know,” he said, reaching a wipe up to my forehead. It stung when he touched it. “Why would they have me come help you if they wanted you dead, Haley?”

“What?” You asked, “I’m not-“

The world began to spin, the darkness and the light swirling together in a sickening twist.

“Sh, don’t worry. I’m not here to hurt you. I only want what’s best for us.”

“I-“ you tried, falling back to the mattress. “I’m-“

—-

“Charlie’s psychiatrist held a support group once a week. Charlie would sometimes attend, even though it was designated as a group for people grieving,” Garcia said, fingers moving fast on her keyboard.

“We should talk to the doctor,” Rossi said.

“On it boss man,” Garcia said before clicking off of the phone.

“Rossi,” JJ said, leaning into the conference room where Rossi sat watching Hotch stroke Jack’s hair while he slept splayed across his lap. He had grown so much since losing Haley, both physically and mentally. He hated to think what he would go through losing the closest thing he’s had to a mother since then.

“Rossi-“ JJ tried again.

Rossi jumped. “Yeah?”

JJ looked at Hotch and Jack, thankful it wasn’t Will and Henry in that situation, as selfish as it felt. “Um, Kayla is here.”

“Great,” Rossi said, “I’ll talk with her in my office.”

“Sure,” JJ went to get her and Rossi left the room, looking back sadly at the young man who was his boss, who he had helped to train, who had been through so much- go through even more, still holding his child through it all.

—-

“Kayla, hi,” Rossi said, reaching out to shake her hand.

She smiled politely, shook his hand, and awkwardly found her way into the chair across from Rossi, one hand on her pregnant belly.

“This is about Charlie?” She asked, brows knitted tightly together. “What does the FBI have to do with Charlie?”

Rossi pressed his lips together and thought about the best way to explain the situation.

“Well,” he said, “we have a man that we have been looking for who abducts people suffering from dissociative identity disorder and uses their mental illness against them to, um… control them, make them do what he wants.”

“Like what?” Kayla asked, seeming not quite to process everything, hand still on her belly, “like, someone- someone kidnapped him? Because he’s got DID?”

Rossi nodded, “that’s our lead right now. I know that before he disappeared, he had been seeing a doctor, and attending a support group. Can you tell me about that?”

Kayla swallowed back her tears and nodded. “Uh, yeah, yeah- his doctor recommend that he attend the grief group to try and work through things that they suspect might have caused his DID, or triggered it, I don’t know- but it was good for him. He was feeling more solid. He even talked to me more about it all, and he used to just brush it off.”

“Like what?” Rossi asked, “what kind of things did he talk about?”

“Well, like, he was in a lot of foster homes growing up. He was there because when he was young, like so young he could hardly remember it all, his mom and dad were killed on a walk somewhere. The guy was never caught, and it traumatized him, especially with all of the homes afterwards-“

“When did that happen, do you know?”

“Oh, sometime in the nineties… maybe 1994?”

—-

“Garcia, why didn’t this come up in our initial search?” Rossi asked, standing behind her desk, looming over her.

“Well, for privacy reasons. Apparently there was some suspicion that the boy was unsafe, so they moved him around a lot and kept his records quiet.”

“Like witness protection.”

“Exactly like witness-“ Garcia stopped for a moment, “wait, what could-“

“We know about the connection between Scratch and foster homes, but this kid doesn’t fit perfectly into that bubble. But maybe that’s how he initially met him, in a home, learned about his trauma-“

“Oh- oh no-“ Garcia said, frozen.

“What is it Penelope?” Rossi asked.

“Charlie’s parents- they- they weren’t just killed, they-“

“What? Spit it out, Garcia,” Rossi begged.

“The father was shot. The mother was stabbed repeatedly. And they made note of one other strange thing- they were married, but there was no sign of their wedding rings near the crime scene. The medical examiner said it appeared they had been wearing them but they just- they weren’t there-“

“So you think-“

“Rossi, I think Charlie’s parents were two of George Foyet’s earliest victims.”


	6. s i x

Rossi called a meeting in his office while Hotch slept, too knocked out and exhausted to notice he had even been dozing off. He closed his door and stood beside Garcia, who held her laptop in her hands, eyes red and watery.

“Rossi,” Morgan said, looking around, “what is this?”

“Listen, what I say here- we can’t tell Hotch. Not yet. Understand?” He looked at each team member as they nodded, and then he looked at Garcia, and then to the floor.

“We have reason to believe,” Rossi started, exhaustion heavy in his voice, “that Charlie was not just a random DID case that Scratch happened to find and use. He had to of known him for longer than anybody let on- maybe Charlie didn’t even remember him. But Charlie was bounced around foster homes a lot, so there’s a good chance Scratch came across him through that, either in his childhood or while he was looking for a pawn in his game.”

“Why can’t we tell Hotch that?” Tara asked.

“No, that part I’m going to tell him. What we’re not going to tell him is that we believe Charlie was the only survivor of an attack from George Foyet.”

“What?” JJ asked. “there’s no way-“

“Father was shot, mother was stabbed, rings were missing-“ Garcia turned her laptop around and showed them the crime scene photos, “mid-nineties, around Foyet’s first killings. Charlies was bounced around foster care like he was in Witsec. That with he DID from the trauma he experienced, it’s unlikely he’d even remember coming across Scratch if he met him through foster care. But we do that he is extremely vulnerable to what Scratch is putting him through, and that Scratch had to have picked him because of the potential tie to Foyet. He’s trying to recreate Foyet and Haley. To torture Aaron.”

The team stood in silenced, mouths agape, tears bubbling.

“Can we prove that?” Morgan asked.

“Oh, honey, what you have in brawn you lack in brain,” Garcia tried with a sigh, “the investigation was classified then but it’s easy to get into now. Every aspect of the crime fits Foyet’s MO and there would be no reason to copycat a killer before he’s even started killing. It’s practically spelled out in gross, bloody, stabby letters.”

“But what are the odds- I mean, Foyet lived in Boston, and now everyone is in DC?”

“It’s not that crazy,” Spencer said, voice dry, “he was moved around a lot, so he could have just been in this area when he aged out of the homes. Scratch was obsessed with Hotch and probably learned everything he possibly could about his worst traumas and fears. And he knows that he fears losing his family- us, Jack, Y/N-“

“This might sound cruel but, why not just take Jack?” Tara asked.

“That’s why I believe he’s trying to recreate Foyet and Haley.”

“Jesus,” Emily said, “imagine going through the trauma of seeing your parents get murdered, only to be kidnapped as an adult and told that you are their murderer, and that you have to kill this woman the same way your mother was killed.”

“That’s Scratch alright,” Morgan said, eyes trained on the ground.

“Assuming that Scratch wants to stick to the story, I’ve been looking into the house where Haley was- well, where- you know. The old couple who own it haven’t answered my calls, so I’m having a unit go there to check on them and see if they’ll come talk to us.”

“Would he be that obvious though?” Spencer asked.

“He’s cocky. He thinks he’s gotten away with everything so far, and that he’ll keep getting away with it, especially where it concerns Hotch. That’s where he slips up- that’s where we catch him.” Rossi said.

“Alright, well, where would he take her if he’s trying to recreate the story?” JJ asked.

“It’s hard to say, it would have to be very isolated and may not even have anything to do with Hotch,” Spencer said.

“Keep digging,” Rossi said, sitting in his chair, “and remember what I said. Don’t tell Hotch. Not yet. I don’t think he could handle it.”

——-

“Haley,” a soft voice said, “haaaaaa-leeeeyyyy.”

You groaned, turning over in the dark. “Who’s there?” You asked, headache bouncing around your skull.

“It’s me, Haley. Oh come on, don’t tell me you don’t recognize me?” Charlie said, leaning down over your face.

“I’m not Haley,” you said, anger bubbling in your throat, “Haley died- I- I’m not Haley.”

“You’re just confused,” he said. “Don’t you know who I am?”

“You’re the kid from the elevator,” you said, lips quivering against the pain and fear, “you followed me.”

“I’m not just the kid in the elevator. Come on, look closer,” he said, flicking on a flashlight pointed up at his face, “we had quite the time together, Haley, wouldn’t you say? Aaron wasn’t so happy with it, but who cares, right?”

You studied his face, his eyes, but saw nothing of anybody you had known.

“I’m not Haley, please-“ you tried, “my name is Y/N. Haley- Aaron’s wife- she died. She was murdered.”

He laughed. “No, Haley,” he said, leaning in, his breath hitting your nose, “you weren’t murdered. Not yet.”

You remembered the early parts of your relationship with Hotch, how he told you how to act incase anything ever did happen. Follow you gut, he had said, don’t threaten, don’t instigate. In most cases, do what they want. Clearly, this guy wanted me to be Haley Hotchner.

You remembered the nights you had seen him in the living room, home late from work, looking at his watch, and the picture you both kept of Haley by the TV for him and for Jack. You knew he was thinking about how late he worked, and if he was letting another person down. Jack was fast asleep, and you were already in bed- or so he thought- and he hadn’t hugged you once in a week because he was chasing down a serial killer. You knew his mind was heavy with he weight of his job, his aspirations, and also the love of his family.

“Oh, Haley,” he said, brushing hair from your forehead, tucking it behind your ears, “we are going to have so much fun together.”


	7. s e v e n

“Dave, the psychiatrist is here,” JJ said, eyes still frozen as she focused on not crying, not letting herself go.

“Good. I’ll see her in here, please,” he said.

JJ nodded, and in walked the doctor, clutching a dark purse to her side, long straight hair hanging flat from her head.

“SSA David Rossi,” Rossi said, shaking her hand.

“Dr. Madison Lorelano, but please, call me Madison,” she said, looking around the room before sitting across from him.

“A few months ago, Madison, you reported one of your patients missing,” Rossi said.

“Charlie-“ she said, immediately, “yes, Charlie. He was a sweet young man. Had been through a lot, but was really starting to find the nicer things in life. He had missed an appointment, and when I called him, his fiancé answered and said he hadn’t been around for a few hours. She assumed he had gone to see me and then went to the store. But- you found him?”

Rossi sighed. “Well, not exactly. We have reason to believe he’s connected to the kidnapping of a federal agents significant other.”

“Charlie-“ she said, surprised, “the Charlie I knew had no homicidal tendencies-“

“Exactly, but this man isn’t the Charlie you knew, or the one his fiancé knew,” Rossi said, “we have been looking for a man that abducts and uses people diagnosed with DID to do his bidding. We believe he either knew or found out about Charlie, and took him to help him antagonize our investigators.”

The doctor sat in surprise for a moment.

“I don’t know that I can be of much help-“ she tried, “I diagnosed him, treated him, and we were working through it-“

“He attended a grief group, right?” Rossi asked.

“Yes, I run it once a week.”

“Was there ever anybody there that may have started coming leading up to Charlie’s disappearance… anybody who might have stood out as strange, or made you uncomfortable?” Rossi asked.

“I don’t know, uh, I-“ she tried, thinking, “most people come and go from the group. Charlie was only there to learn healthy coping mechanisms, since he had never learned how to deal with the loss of his parents.”

“Sure, sure,” Rossi said, “just think. This person might have had a strange story, and seemed not to be affected by sharing it. He’d be pretty much quiet, off to the side, watching Charlie, listening intently when he spoke- maybe he would even approach Charlie after the meeting.”

“There was a man,” she said, “who stopped coming after Charlie disappeared. I was too concerned about Charlie to really notice, but- he said his wife had been shot and then stabbed, in their own home, and he was struggling to cope with it. He said he had nightmares of living through it again. That’s all I knew about him- he was an older-looking man, and had a soft voice-“

“Did he look like this?” Rossi asked, opening the crime scene folder on his desk and pulling up a picture of Scratch.

The doctor nodded, “yes, um- that’s him. That’s definitely him.”

Rossi nodded, “thank you, Madison. You can go see Agent Anderson and he’ll help you out.”

He quickly stood and hurried to the conference room where most of the team sat with their heads in books or laptops or folders, searching and scanning for hints and clues-

“It’s Scratch,” Rossi said quickly, not realizing Hotch was awake and sitting on the couch still. “The psychiatrist confirmed it. Scratch abducted Charlie.”

“So we’re looking for Scratch for sure,” Morgan said. “Where does that get us?”

“Hotch,” Rossi said, looking around the room, “can I talk to you for a minute?”

Hotch watched him for a moment, observing his face, his every breath- and then he stood, Jack lying asleep on the couch.

“JJ, will you make sure to be careful with what you guys say around him?” Hotch asked.

“Of course,” JJ said, looking around the table. They all watched him follow Rossi out.

“What is it, Dave?” Hotch asked as Rossi closed the door to his office behind them.

“Hotch, I need to tell you something, and I thought out of respect I’d do it in private. It’s not fun, but it helps our case a lot.”

Hotch nodded, racking his brain for whatever it could be that had to be private.

“We think there’s a tie between Scratch and Charlie, possibly through a foster home early in Charlie’s life or sometime after. Regardless, we have him at the grief group Charlie attended,” Rossi said.

“Okay-“

“Wait,” Rossi said. “We have reason to believe that he didn’t just pick Charlie because he’s been diagnosed with DID. We think- Garcia found reason to believe- that Charlie’s parents weren’t just murdered. The husband was shot, and the wife was shot, but the wife was also repeatedly stabbed. It was a disorganized crime, but-“

“When?” Hotch asked, his voice dropping to a low growl.

“Mid nineties. In Boston.”

Hotch fell into a chair, head cradled in his hands as he started to cry.

“Aaron, making it personal- it makes it easier for us to get him,” Rossi said. “And we are going to get him. And Y/N is going to be safe.”

“I can’t do this again, Dave,” Hotch said, looking up at him, cheeks wet with tears. “Foyet has been dead for years and still he is tormenting me and my family.”

“It’s not him,” Rossi said, “this isn’t Foyet. This is Scratch. This is Peter Lewis, and he’s using Charlie, a kid, basically, to continue to torment you. And he won’t get away with it.”

“We’ve said that before,” Hotch said, his voice broken and bare. “We always say they will never get away with it. But what can we really do? Scratch has gotten away with it so many times- Foyet got away with it, every single one of them gets away with it.”

“They get away with it before they get caught,” Rossi said. “Peter Lewis is no different. And when- not if- when we get him and get Y/N back, I will personally flip the switch on his electric chair.”

Hotch looked down at his feet, a few dark marks on the carpet where his tears had hit the floor. “So you think Lewis targeted Charlie because of his vulnerability to Foyet, and Foyet’s connection to me?”

“That’s the idea,” Rossi said.

“It’s just a theory,” Hotch tried.

“Hell of a coincidence, though,” Rossi said.

“Knowing how Scratch works, if he was trying to get at me, and we know he has been since the moment he had me in that house, he’s gonna make Charlie believe he’s Foyet.”

Rossi nodded along. “That’s what we’ve been thinking to, and the more Garcia digs, the more likely it seems.”

“So he wants to have Charlie, who thinks he’s the Boston Reaper, kill Y/N like she’s Haley. He wants to recreate the situation.”

Rossi let out a long sigh. “This is good. The story of it is important to him, so we can work through it accordingly.”

“According to the story, my wife was murdered while I was on the phone with her and our child was in the other room,” Hotch said. “Except he can’t possibly recreate it perfectly because there’s no-“

Hotch looked up at Rossi, fear crossing his eyes.

“There’s a child,” Hotch said, “Y/N is pregnant. He had to of known. It’s important.”

“Jack survived,” Rossi said, quickly, “if he kills Y/N, that baby won’t survive like Jack did.”

“So he can’t know,” Hotch tried, “he can’t know that she’s pregnant.”

“I don’t think he does,” Rossi said, “and if he doesn’t have a kid, is he following the story?”

“What if he meant to have one,” Hotch said, looking through the window at a sleeping Jack.

“He couldn’t have picked him up from school. They know the dangers, especially for him.”

“I think we should get everyones family’s into protective custody. At least, the kids-“

“JJ’s kids?” Rossi asked.

“It’s the closest he can get to one of my own, and the age isn’t far off, and it would do the most harm to our entire team. That’s been his goal all along is to hurt all of us-“

“Okay, we’ll get them to bring in Will and the kids. I’ll make some calls,” Rossi said, holding his phone up to his ear.

—-

From the beginning of the relationship you had felt, to some extent, to be a stand-in; a replacement for what couldn’t be there. The lead actress didn’t make her curtain call and so now the understudy took to the spotlight. Little remains of Haley hotchner were sprinkled through your life since Aaron arrived in it; little boxes of knickknacks and love notes he understandably couldn’t bear to part with- the few pictures you’ve seen yet the breathtaking way Jack wore her features. You weren’t a very spiritual person, but sometimes you could swear you’d feel her around you all, maybe at the dinner table when Aaron had made it home from a case- just this little sparkle in the air, a warmth, and in those moments you felt accepted. You felt safe in the heart of a family that had been broken and taped and glued back together.

But now, laying there, flashlight flickering, lips drying out in the stale air, you felt as though all of that might have just been some sort of fever dream. Without any sense of time, or when you had slept or been awake, it was hard to tell how long you’d been on that mattress, but you knew that it couldn’t be long. Somewhere in your heart you knew Aaron was looking for you, almost as though Haley- that little twinkle that floated around the dinner table- was reminding you, every second- Aaron Hotchner will never stop racing to that door.

Haley was stuck in a state of waiting for Aaron. Waiting for him to get back from work, waiting for him to put his ambition aside, waiting for him to get there and save her. And Aaron knew he had been late again, for her- and it had cost her life. That deep feeling of watching the seconds tick by and collecting them like coins or butterflies rested so heavily atop of you that it was almost certain Haley was there, still waiting, but now waiting with you. At least there was company now.

“Ohh Haley,” Charlie called, hurrying down the ladder and sitting beside you.

“My name is not Haley,” you said, your voice weak and tired.

“It’s okay Mrs. Hotchner. You don’t have to hide who you are, you’re safe with me,” he said.

“Your name is Torey, right? You said your name was-“

He laughed and rocked back like a child, holding his legs in his hands as he sat criss-crossed. “That was a fake name. Wasn’t it obvious?”

You studied him, the short hair and dark circles around his eyes, the remnants of bruises and restraints littered over his visible skin.

“Then what’s your name? Your real name?” You asked.

“Oh, Haley. You know who I am. They warned you about me, didn’t they?”

You stayed quiet, wondering where the other man had gone- the one who had bandaged your head.

“My name is George,” he said, “George Foyet.”

“No,” you said, quickly, “that’s not your real name.”

“It is,” he said, absolutely positive, “surprise.”

“You aren’t-“

“Stop it!” He screamed, spit flying from his mouth. He rushed forwards and squeezed his hands around your throat, pinning you down, his pulse beating so hard you could see it in his neck. “You’re a liar!”

You opened your mouth, trying to speak, but no words or air escaped- or entered, either. You flinched against the ropes that kept you tied up, flailing and struggling for a breath.

“You all think you’re so smart, don’t you? Think you can stay one step ahead of me? Surprise, Agent Hotchner. I win. I always win.”

You felt the fear bubble up in you. You thought about the baby you were carrying, how maybe that child would smile with your same smile and wear your same hair, but would carry themself like Aaron.

He let go. Sucking in air, you coughed and wheezed, rolling over and onto your stomach as much as you could, the tears seeping from your eyes.

“What’s the matter, Haley?” He asked. “Can’t take a beating?”


End file.
